B is for Black B is for Betrayal
by Oriel Subtle
Summary: James was NOT dead. James COULDN'T be dead. It went against the laws of nature. Not James Potter. Not my best friend... Sirius' POV from the night of Lily and James' death. My first Oneshot, please R&R! Rated T for language.


**Hello Everyone ****, **

**My first oneshot: the night Lily and James died from Sirius' POV**

**Hope you like it! **

**Reviews are beautiful.**

**Oriel x**

'Sirius?' I jerked out of my daydream to find myself looking into the sharp, blue eyes of my old headmaster.

'Sorry Professor- I mean- Albus' It was still weird using his first name. I used professor more frequently than not, although me and James had never called him professor at school. I grinned to myself, wondering what he'd say if we called him Dumby nowadays. He'd probably just laugh.

'As you are James' and Lily's secret keeper, I feel it would be safer if we found a hiding place for you, away from headquarters of course. It will be harder for the Death Eaters to…torture… anything out of you that way.' We both winced, the pain of losing Frank and Alice still fresh in our minds. Over the last few weeks we had lost more people than we had in the whole history of the Order put together. Fabian, Dorcas… Marlene. I clenched my jaw as the tears that had been threatening to burst from me since I had heard about Marley scalded my eyes.

'I know its hard Sirius,' said Dumbledore gently, misunderstanding me, 'James is your best friend. But if we stay true to the plan, there is a very great chance that we can stop Voldemort from even getting a glimpse of the Potters.' I knew it. I knew the plan was a very good one. It only had one flaw… but I had sorted that out myself. Who would Voldemort think the Potters' secret keeper was? Me. I'd die for James, Lily and baby Harry, but I'd heard that he was a legilimens. I'd never really gotten the hang of Occlumency.

I had explained all this to Lily and James earlier that day, and we had all decided that it was for the best. Peter would be the secret keeper. Little Peter Pettigrew: who no one would ever think had been used. It was Peter that Dumbledore should be speaking to, not me. We had told no one however. It just wasn't safe enough, especially with a spy in our midst- I would never have believed it of Moony, but there it was. My stomach twisted with anger at Voldemort, the dark arts in general and this whole fucking pointless war. It was changing people: and I didn't like who some of those people had become.

'The real problem is,' Dumbledore was saying, 'Is _how_ to hide you. I have James' cloak of course,' my head shot up at this unexpected piece of information. Dumbledore noted it with laughter in his eyes. 'You didn't think I didn't know how you did all your night time wanderings at Hogwarts?' I grinned reminiscently. 'Yes, Charlus Potter warned me about that cloak long before he passed it on to James.'

'Charlie!' I said with outrage while Dumbledore chuckled. I imagined James making some comment about giving his dead father a good talking to and laughed again. I missed that James so much: he was becoming a rather frequent guest in my head.

'Well I want to do some more tests on the cloak, so I'm afraid we can't use that…'

'Don't worry professor; I've got somewhere I can go. I'll take the motorbike.' I grinned at the thought of my new toy. Dumbledore smiled looking somewhat relieved.

'Well that saves us a lot of trouble then,' He pulled his travelling cloak around his shoulders and tucked his beard into his belt, 'Good luck Sirius. Oh, and keep an eye on Peter won't you?' and with one final x-ray from his blue eyes, he disapparated. I had the oddest feeling he knew something I didn't…but he couldn't know about the plan. No one knew about the plan. Me, James, Lily, Peter: that was all. It was with an uneasy stomach however, that I started the motorbike, and took off into the night sky.

The flat seemed colder than I remembered it, but maybe I was just missing _her _warmth. I snapped on the light switch, swinging the bag of provisions I had brought over my shoulder and down onto the sofa. I caught sight of the electrical socket, overflowing with plugs coming from toasters, microwaves, stereos, lamps and TVs, all sprawled out across the carpet. I grinned at the memory. Marley was never one for doing things by halves. _If I'm going to live in a muggle flat,_ she had said, _I might as well do it properly Sirius. _She had been speaking in what I called her McGonagall voice… I missed that voice.

I sat down heavily on the sofa, looking around properly at the gloomy kitchen and the door that led further down the hall to her bedroom. That was another thing I missed. Marley, in her bedroom. I scanned photos she'd plastered over the walls: the two of us; the Marauders; Marley, Lily and Dorcas. They smiled and waved out of the photos at me. They didn't know that everything was about to go wrong. They didn't know that they were doomed. Poor Dorcas. Poor Marley.

I felt another twist of anger. Marley couldn't make any more memories: and I had so many things planned. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I snapped it open and gazed at the ring. It wasn't fucking fair. Why did she leave me? Did think that I could survive without her? I hurled the ring away from me, at the wall. I immediately regretted it. I felt like an old man as I reached for it again: and old man who had lived for too long.

Carefully putting the ring back into my pocket, I reached around to my bag and pulled out the only thing that was keeping me sane.

'James Potter' I said clearly to the mirror, which vibrated, then misted over. A second later…

'PADS!' I grinned. Same old James.

'James!' I heard Lily admonish him in the background, 'I think you might have given Pudding a heart attack!'

'Sorry Puds,' said James and the image in the mirror jolted as James reached over to stroke the cat's head soothingly. Lily's face appeared a moment later, smiling.

'Hi Sirius!' she called, reaching over for something.

'Hi Lily-flower!' I called back cheekily. Her face was stony as she came back into view.

'I thought we agreed that that name was _staying_ at Hogwarts,' she hissed with narrowed eyes. James laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. Lily glared at him, then lifted up what she had been holding. I let out a strangled laugh. Inside what could only be described as a fairy costume was a very grumpy baby Harry. A very pink, very glittery fairy costume. James facepalmed.

'Doesn't he look cute?' Lily cooed with delight as Harry struggled, making the wings flap erratically.

'Precious,' I snorted, 'What- exactly- is he supposed to be Lils?' Lily looked slightly disappointed.

'A Cornish Pixie of course!' I thought maybe James' head might explode.

'But aren't they usually… blue?' I asked uncertainly.

'Well, yes,' Lily conceded, 'but they were all out of blue, and Madam Malkin said this would do just as well…'

'I've told you Lily!' James interrupted, 'It's a _fairy _costume! Our one year old son in a fairy! Poor Harry has just lost his entire supply of masculinity in one fatal swoop.' He jingled one of the bells on one of Harry's ballet slippers for emphasis.

'Well I think he looks adorable,' said Lily defensively, 'My little Halloween pixie! You like it, don't you Harry?' she asked, bouncing him up and down. He glared stonily at her. Me and James fell about laughing.

'Oh shut up,' she said, giggling too.

Bang.

Lily jumped violently, making the bells on Harry's shoes jingle. James frowned, looking over his shoulder.

'No one was coming to visit tonight were they Pads?' he asked cautiously. I shook my head.

'Maybe it's Dumbledore?' Lily whispered.

'Maybe.' James didn't sound convinced.

BANG.

'It can't be anyone bad,' said Lily in a high voice, clutching Harry protectively to her, 'We have a Fidelius charm!'

'No,' said James, his voice now reassuring, 'it's fine Lils. Stay in here though okay? I'll get it.'

BANG.

He propped the mirror on the sofa so I had a view of the room and I saw him make his way across the living room and through the door that led to the hall. There was silence…

BANG.

Lily screamed as an almighty crash sounded from the hall.

'LILY!' yelled James, and there was fear and desperation in his voice, 'TAKE HARRY AND GO! IT'S HIM! GO! RUN! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF..' Lily ran, stumbling slightly on the carpet as she rushed through the door and up the stairs. There was a high, mirthless laugh.

'Avada Kedavra!' There was a thump. Someone falling, falling to the ground.

I heard Lily's heartbroken scream: 'JAMES! NO! NO!'

I was numb, but if I was numb then how could I still feel the pain? Twisting through my insides, carving pieces from me that I knew instinctively would never return. James. JAMES. He was dead, he was… No. NO. He couldn't be… He couldn't. NO!

I could hear more screaming, more explosions of spells. Lily's voice again now:

'No! Not Harry! Take me!'

I couldn't feel. I couldn't move. But I HAD to move: because how else would I prove James was alive? How else would I save the Potters? James was NOT dead. James COULDN'T be dead. It went against the laws of nature. Not James Potter. Not my best friend.

I ran, out of the flat, down the stairs, all the way to where I'd parked the bike. James was NOT dead. James was NOT dead. The bike took off and now I was in the air. This would not be possible if James were dead. The world would stop if James were dead. I carried on through the star-spangled sky, the thought of how not even crossing my mind. Yet.

The sight of the house was worse than I had expected. It has been flattened. Destroyed. I left my bike with the engine still running and sprinted over to the rubble.

'JAMES?' I yelled. I had to find him, before it was too late. 'JAMES? LILY? WHERE ARE YOU?' There was silence. Pieces of ash floated down around me, still burning in the cold air. This house. The house that had been the setting for many of my better memories. It had seemed so warm, so alive, that it was almost wrong for it to be obliterated like this. Unnatural. Why had Voldemort destroyed the house, I wondered? Why would he do that?

'Sirius?' a quavering voice spoke from behind me. I whipped around, wand out, half expecting to see Voldemort himself standing there. I'd kill him. But it was only little Bathilda Bagshot, staring up at me, shocked. 'I-I don't understand,' she said looking around to the scene of devastation behind me, 'What have you done?' It took me a second to understand.

'It wasn't me!' I snarled angrily, 'It was Voldemort! It's always fucking Voldemort.' I turned my back on her, reaching over to scrabble through the bricks and wood that lay all around.

'I'll… fetch Dumbledore,' I heard her say uncertainly. I ignored her.

'JAMES?' I scanned the surrounding rubble and was rewarded with a tuft of dark hair. 'James!' I called excitedly, hopping over the stone, ignoring the tight feeling of dread in my stomach. 'James?' The rubble came off relatively easily.

'JAMES!' I let out a scream of frustration. NO! He was dead alright. His open eyes stared into me, the laughter gone from them. NONONONONONONONONO! His neck was bent at an odd angle, but I still recognised the marks, or lack of, from the killing curse. 'I'LL KILL HIM!' I yelled, 'I'LL FUCKING KILL THEM ALL!' A faint cry answered me. My head shot up. The cry was coming from about ten metres away, where I saw the metal outline of bars protruding out of the mess. A cot.

'Lily?' It hurt leaving James' broken form. I replaced his glasses on his nose and wiped a trickle of blood off his forehead. The cry came again, louder and more insistent. I wrenched myself away, and picked my way over to the crib. I realised before I got there that it was a baby crying… Harry.

'Lils? Lily?' I grazed my hands, pulling up brick after brick. There was Harry, screaming, a weird lightning bolt scar on his forehead. I ignored it. A flash of red hair showed through a broken mobile. I gently pulled it off. The light had left her eyes too. She was as dead as James. A strangled moan left my lips without permission. I cleared a space around her. Her eyes stared up into mine without seeing.

And then there was a hand. I yelled loudly, recoiling from its cold touch. It wasn't alive of course, but the long white fingers seemed to grasp at me, trying to pull me into death's grip as it had Lily and James. Voldemort. His death didn't feel like a triumph. It didn't even perforate my bubble of grief. It just was… pathetic. It just proved the pointlessness of the whole war. It hadn't ended in a huge battle, with speeches, trumpets and glory. No. It had ended in a semi-detatched house in Godric's Hollow. He had been stopped not by the might of the Ministry or the Order of the Phoenix, but by a little family who had sacrificed themselves and their life together. And falling masonry. The James in my head laughed.

I stared at baby Harry, trying to ignore the twisted, resentful feeling in my chest. Why him? Why did he get to survive? Why couldn't James have instead? I immediately felt sickened with myself. The James in my head glared at me.

I went to pick him up, but stopped when I heard a loud scream from behind me. I turned. The muggles were all pointing at a spot in their midst. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised that it was just the Order members apparating. I stumbled towards them.

'YOU- YOU TRAITOR!' I was startled. Moony was incandescent, clambering up the rubble towards me, wand outstretched: murder was in his eyes. 'YOU OF ALL PEOPLE! YOU TRAITOR! YOU EVIL BETRAYING BASTARD!' I stood there, rooted to the spot. He didn't… he couldn't think that _I…_

_He_ was the traitor, not me! _He_ was the spy!

'HOW COULD YOU SIRIUS? LILY AND JAMES?' He spat on the ground. 'I guess I shouldn't be surprised.' He said, derision entering his tone, 'Guess you're a real Black after all.' It hurt.

'Moony! I didn't! How could I..? You don't…!'

'Remus,' came a calm voice from behind him, 'Go help Hagrid get Harry. Rest assured Sirius will get what he deserves.' Moony spat once more and stormed off. I was left looking into the icy blue eyes of my professor.

'I thought…'

'We all think a lot of things about people we know Sirius,' he said, his voice hard, 'Sometimes we're disappointed.' I could see the raw anger emanating from his face. Everything about him said power.

'Professor, I didn't…'

'Save the lies for your friends Sirius. Bathilda says she knows what she saw.' His eyes grew tired. 'I thought…' he shook his head. 'What have you done Sirius? What have you done?' And then it all clicked into place. The muggles, Voldemort, the plan, Moony's anger.

The reason the muggles could now see the house was because the fidelius charm had been broken by the explosion. But how had Voldemort found the house? Someone had told him: more of a betrayal than James would have thought possible. Who is the only person who could have told him? The secret keeper. Who did everyone think was the secret keeper? Me. Who had James, Lily and I changed the secret keeper to this very morning?

'Peter,' I muttered murderously. If I had felt anger before, it was nothing to what I felt now. Dumbledore had looked up sharply.

'What did you say?' I ignored him. The colours of the burning house blurred around me. The James in my head roared for blood. I ran.

It was only three nights later that I caught up with Peter. After lending the obviously oblivious Hagrid my motorbike, I had to pursue him on foot: apparating up and down the country. It was difficult: the ministry was rounding up death eaters now, throwing them into prison, making deals with the rich ones. I felt sick when I spied Lucius Malfoy walking around Diagon Alley like nothing was happened, being greeted by people that a few days ago were talking about killing him where he stood. Everything was changing. They were looking for me too, saying I had betrayed Lily and James; saying I was Voldemort's most trusted follower, his right hand man. It fuelled the fire inside me. I hated Peter more than ever.

I didn't expect it. I was in my dog form, prowling up the street where Peter had been hidden by me on that night. I didn't expect him to come back of course. Anyone intelligent would've realised it was suicide to go down that street with me on the loose. I should've known…

He looked different. That's what drove me insane. He looked… happy. Fatter even. He sauntered down the pavement with a spring in his step, wearing a new velvet waistcoat, clutching a large pile of flowers and cards: obviously people sending their condolences. I dug my claws into the tarmac. He was whistling. Lily, James and Voldemort's deaths suited him well: finally, he was the one getting the attention. He was the one who everyone turned to. I wanted to rip him apart.

He turned slightly as he made to go into the house, _my _house, which belonged to _me._ Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He put his hand into that waistcoat, looking up and down the street. His eyes snapped on to mine. He panicked.

I saw him fumble, dropping the key and scratching on the step for it. He picked it up, dropped it again. I let out a bark of laughter. I was going to enjoy this. The street was full of muggles, but I didn't care. All that mattered was Peter, and the James inside me that urged me to paint the road red with his blood. I transformed into my human form, ignoring the gasps from the muggles on all sides. A little boy laughed and pointed excitedly. He looked a bit like Harry.

Peter had given up trying to fit the key into the lock. He squeaked with terror, dropping the cards and flowers, running down the steps and further down the street, towards the large houses that blocked him. Dead end. I smiled, taking my time, walking slowly towards him: enjoying the look of abject horror in his eyes.

'Sirius!,' he called to me, using the simpering voice I had always hated, 'Please Sirius, I can ex…'

'SHUT UP!' I roared, startling the muggles. The little boy stopped laughing. Peter cringed towards the wall at his back, just like he'd cringed towards me, James and Moony at Hogwarts.

'Sirius, you don't understand, I didn't mean…'

'YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO? WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU TOLD HIM WHERE THEY LIVED? YOU'RE NOT THAT STUPID PETER… BUT IT'S A CLOSE CALL!'

'Sirius,' he tried to appease, 'You of all people understand what he's like, the power he has! Your family…' I was sick of people relating me to my family.

'MY FAMILY'S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! I WOULD NEVER HAVE BETRAYED THEM, NEVER!' my voice broke on the last word. Peter looked hopeful. I glared at him murderously. 'You are going to die.' I said in a low voice, 'Today.' The little boy started to cry. I could see the muggles were getting restless, no longer frozen in shock. A few of them were looking towards there houses where there would almost certainly be telephones. They would call their law-keepers, the police.

I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and realised too late that it was Peter. I whipped around. He eyed me warily; in one hand he held his wand, carefully behind his back; in the other, a short silver knife. 'I'm sorry Sirius, this is just how it has to be.' I watched as he fingered him wand, trying to predict his next move. I decided.

I whipped out my wand, but as I did so a huge explosion shook the ground around me. I cast a shield charm instinctively. I heard a squeal of pain from Peter, and then a squeak. My teeth rattled in my head as muggles flew everywhere, the little boy thrown into the air like a ragdoll. Smoke surrounded me, the smell of burning.

The flames and dust cleared. It was a scene of devastation, just like at the Potters' house. The houses had been near destroyed around us and the bodies of those poor muggles lay strewn around us, like a child's play set which had been abandoned. I looked around frantically for Peter. Was he dead?

Then I saw it. A rat, running over the bricks, disappearing quickly from view. I hurled myself after it tripping over bodies and stones, but he was gone. Disappeared.

'COWARD!' I yelled to the sky. It was over. He'd done it. Stitched me up. I'd never even seen it coming. I waded my way back to where he had been stood. There lay a bloodied silver knife and… a finger. I laughed. I laughed because there was nothing else to do. A finger. A fucking finger! Who would have thought, Peter Pettigrew, the witless wonder could have thought of that. Wand behind his back. Cut off a finger. I was in Azkaban for life, for sure. The James in my head laughed with me.

I bent over, tears starting to stream down my face. The best prank he'd ever pulled. This was up with the greats. This was up with that Highland Cow we'd once put in McGonagall's office. Well done Peter. Well done Peter fucking Pettigrew. The cracks of apparating wizards sounded in my ears and I was surrounded by the same aurors I had worked with for the past two years. I laughed harder. My friends would be the ones! My friends would be the ones to take my life. How simple. How perfect. How planned out it was.

Dumbledore would sentence me. Life imprisonment in Azkaban! I leant on one of them for support, hysterical laughter still bursting from my mouth.

Me and James laughed because there was nothing else. We laughed because James and Marley were gone. We laughed because I was hated, and despised, and because I was the one who was going to take the blame for all of Peter's crimes. We laughed because however much I loved my godson, it wasn't enough, because I was selfish. We laughed about my life, my family, and my friends. We laughed because sometimes, that was the only thing a marauder could do. But most of all… we laughed because one day, I was going to escape; and on that day: Peter would die.


End file.
